A Jewelers Dream - Blogabond

3/10/08
Day 6…
We got sick and went mad. Actually partially true… Dillan had stomach trouble in the morning, while Amy and I went jogging again. But in the afternoon illness—fever and stomach—hit Sarah and I and we were probably a little delirious. We watched Rang De Basante (famous Bollywood film), which was interesting after having seen the Legend of Bhagat Singh since it essentially parallels that story, and then two episodes of Heroes. Then we laughed to tears about the ridiculousness of our situation.
Earlier in the day we had gone for a little while to attend a training session offered by GRAVIS for a new health initiative being tested by the government. Of course, the proceedings were conducted in Marabati and Dillan (still sick) wasn’t there which meant we hadn’t a chance in hell of understanding what was going on. We felt like a distraction more than attendees as all the women stopped paying attention to Giriji lecturing up front in favor of staring at us. The situation then progressed to what has become a usual pattern in these types of situations. Women—or children or men it matters little—wearing brightly colored outfits and veils over their eyes crowd about us and begin asking questions we haven’t a clue how to answer (or understand). They are much more touchy than any American would be comfortable with and have even lifted our shirts several times, or mildly slapped to try to get our attention. This generally digresses into them pointing to our stomachs or breasts as a way of asking whether we have children or are married. When it is explained that we are not, they laugh heartily. They then point to their jewelry and our very jewelry-less earlobes…and wrists and noses and fingers and ankles and toes and upper arms.

Why don’t you have jewelry? You don’t have jewelry? Do you even have earholes? Yes. Do you even have nose holes? No. Laugh heartily. Such short hair. Yes. Why? It’s hot here. Laugh heartily. No children? No. No husband? Why? We’re students. Blank stare.

After only twenty minutes of these situations, we are generally too exhausted to continue and have to retreat back to our fort and hide our shameful earlobes.

written by

Drie on March 10, 2008 from Jodhpur, India

from the travel blog: Adventures in Hindustan

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